


Steel

by raleighpuppy



Series: Friends, Teammates, and Everything in Between [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Menstruation, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Okay this fic is about trans man blues while on your period fyi, Trans Character, Trans Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:34:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raleighpuppy/pseuds/raleighpuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's in pain and not feeling too well, but he doesn't want to tell the team.<br/>Nat helps.</p><p>OR: once more, Steve worries about nothing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steel

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by my own trans man period blues
> 
> Seriously, though, being a trans man and being on your period is one of the worst things ever because people say things like "men have no idea what periods are like!!" and pretty much anything else that equates vaginas with women and it's like please shut up  
> tl;dr: don't be cissexist

Steve groans and curls up on himself under his blanket and pillow pile on the couch on the common floor shared by all those residing in the Tower. It's a slow day; Tony and Bruce are holed up in the lab, Sam's down at the VA, Kate, Clint, and Bucky are at an archery range together-- it was Bucky's first time agreeing to accompany them and he's glad his friend's starting to socialize more on his own-- Thor's in Asgard, and Nat is... Okay, he doesn't know where Nat is, but she's probably doing something important, so he leaves his phone, which he can in fact use-- thank you very much, Tony-- on the table instead of texting her to come over.

Slowly, he closes his eyes and wills his life to end because this is bullshit. And it was terrible to go into the store to buy tampons and pads, especially when the cashier made a comment and he lied about them being for a girlfriend that doesn't exist. He only now wishes that he'd thought to pick up some Advil or other painkiller too. But it's too late and the thought of searching for some in a cabinet somewhere is a bit too much, so he simply groans and feels pathetic.

He should get up, he really should, he thinks, because he's Captain America doesn't mope like this, but fuck it; he spends so much of his time helping others he deserves to do this, to lay around.

Soft footsteps on the carpet interrupts his intense mope session and he looks up from the spot on the wall he's been staring at to see Nat standing with her hands on her hips, assessing the situation and frowning.

"Barnes told me you were down for the count," she explains, sitting next to his pillow and blanket pile. "What's got you down, Rogers?"

"Buck told you?" he replies, suddenly scared Bucky might have told Nat why he was down for the count even though he knows that's ridiculous, that Bucky wouldn't tell a soul without permission.

"Well, he texted me and his exact words were, and I quote, /hey Nat Steve's being a butt he's not feeling well and he's made a cocoon in the living room. check on him for me?/"

The blond moves so his head is in Nat's lap, a frequent happening, especially during Friday night movie nights at Sam's place, a little calmer now he's heard the text read to him and full and knows his secret's safe. "Tell him that if either one of us is a butt, it's him."

"You're both so nice to each other."

She sends the text anyway, looking forward to Bucky's response, which will no doubt be littered with profanity, while Steve quietly hums some old song he remembers the melody of but not the words to. It's slow, quiet, and he thinks he's danced to it before, but he's not entirely sure anymore. Either way, it's got a nice melody and it's easy to hum; he likes it.

"So what's got you down?" she asks again, hoping for an actual answer this time.

"My stomach and lower back hurt," he grumbles, telling the truth, but not the whole truth.

"Thought you healed quickly and couldn't get sick?"

"Not sick," he offers, still not explaining himself fully.

Her frown intensifies. "Did you eat something bad not too long ago?"

She's exhausting all possible options to explain why a genetically enchanted super soldier could possibly feel stomach and back pains.

He shakes his head. "No."

And then there's the all-consuming anxiety, the thrumming in his chest from his heart beating too fast, at the idea of being figured out. Not that he's ashamed because he's not. He worked damn hard and continues to work hard to build himself and he's done a damn good job, he thinks. But people act weird and it is, or was-- he can't figure out how frowned upon things are now, if he'd still be considered a menace to the public and all good society or diseased-- a risky situation to put himself in by deciding to tell someone. He hides his shaky hands under the blankets and takes deep breaths. He nearly jumps at the feeling of a cold hand-- Nat's hands are nearly always cold-- running through his hair, something that usually effectively calms him down.

"Steve, what's wrong?" she softy asks and it's a bit odd on her, he thinks, because he doesn't connect her to soft things, not really; she's steel and cool and sturdy. He quietly sighs.

"My stomach usually doesn't feel this bad. I mean, lower back pain is normal, but I just don't--"

"Steve."

"--think so I didn't buy any Advil. It was really awkward at the store and--"

"Steve." He sighs.

"Sorry, Nat. Kinda got carried away there." He slowly sits up, puts some of his blankets over her too. "Only Buck and Clint know this and they've been really nice about it and I don't know why I'm so nervous about telling you. Well, I do know and it's because you're really neat and--"

"Steve, you're doing it again. You're rambling."

He groans, half from the pain and half with fear and just not wanting to talk, and covers his face with a pillow. After an awkward minute of silence, he peeks out from under the pillow to see her still watching him and he sighs because he knows stalling isn't going to work any longer, not on her. And he doesn't know why he's so scared because Clint's nice, more than nice, about it and he's only half as cool at Nat is, no offense to him.

"'m, uh, I'm-- dang it, I forgot the word Clint used. Either way, I, uh-- fuck."

She reaches over, gently rubs his back, and offers a small, but encouraging, grin. Or, at least, she hopes it's encouraging, but it's probably less helpful than she hopes based off the look on Steve's face. He looks heartbroken, like he's about to start crying.

"I don't know why I'm so scared. I'm not really brave, not really, and you're a friend, a good friend, and Clint was nice, so I shouldn't be so worried, but it's hard to not be worried. I worry about a lot of things; it's probably not too healthy and--" This time, he realizes he's rambling before it's pointed out and cuts himself off.

"You don't have to tell me if you're not comfortable." She's still running a hand through his hair. "I'm just worried and I want to know if you're feeling well."

He decides to just say it. As few words as possible, to the point. But it turns into rambling. "I'm, uh, on my period and it's usually not this bad. I had to take off my binder earlier because everything hurts and I'm just really gross and achy right now."

She nods, understanding, and he doesn't even see any sort of surprise on her face. No pausing either. No shouting, no faces of disgust. Nothing to indicate any negative feelings. And a weight is lifted off Steve's chest.

"You know what'll help you?" she asks.

"No," he answers. "What?"

Which is how he finds himself on his back with a heating pad strewn across his stomach, while Nat goes to the store to pick up a few things. He's nearly nodded off when his phone goes off. It's a text.

Nat: _dark or milk chocolate_

Steve: _dark please_

Nat: _fave kind of ice cream?_

Steve: _mint chocolate chip_

Nat: _u ok with painting nails?_

Steve: _yes_

Nat: _colors?_

Steve: _surprise me_

When Bucky returns from the archery range, he returns to an odd sight: Steve lying on the couch, laughing, while there's a movie playing and Nat paints his nails in a pattern of alternating reds, whites, and blues. There are chocolate wrappers and ice cream containers on the coffee table. And they just seem so happy, so he does something he only learned how to do recently from Clint and he takes a few pictures on his phone. They're a bit blurry because his hands shake a little sometimes, but they're good, he thinks.

"Buck!" Steve greets from where he lies. "Want some ice cream? We can do your nails if you want."

"We?" Nat teases. "You're the worst nail-painter ever."

Bucky snorts as he sits next to Nat, about to refuse the nail painting offer when he sees there are little white stripes on Steve's red nails and he just about loses it.

"Oh my god, Stevie," he chokes. "Your nails."

He smiles, looks very happy with his nails. "Aren't they great?"

Nat's facial expression conveys that bad things will occur to Bucky if he even so much as thinks for one second that Steve's nails aren't the best ever, so he smiles and nods and lets Nat do his too.

Not too long after his nails are dry and he's under a few blankets, Bucky's out cold. It's occurred more recently, him falling asleep during the day and, more importantly, around others, a sign he's comfortable and trusts the team enough to let his guard down like this.

Steve offers a large grin, the kind of reserves for few things like Bucky, Sam's mom's cookies, and jazz. "Thanks, Nat."

"Hey." She pulls him into a side-hug. "You're my friend."

About a month later, she receives a text from Steve. Not that she doesn't receive plenty of texts from Steve in a month, but this one's a bit different.

Steve: _please come over and bring nail polish, painkillers, a movie, and some sweets_

She grins the whole way to the store.

**Author's Note:**

> I plan for the next installment to feature Sam, but who knows what'll happen? Writing is weird


End file.
